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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28849614">A Spoonful of Sugar, A Glass Upside Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/holbytlanna/pseuds/holbytlanna'>holbytlanna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bless Jack Dalton, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Giving Mac shit, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:13:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28849614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/holbytlanna/pseuds/holbytlanna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack chuckled, watching Mac become increasingly more frustrated. “Stop talking before you hurt yourself. I’ve got a cure for you, hold up.” He stood and wandered over to the kitchen, with no urgency at all in his step. Mac thought that Jack was enjoying himself far too much. And he didn’t want to know what nonsense cure Jack would come up with to cure his hiccups.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Dalton &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer &amp; Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Spoonful of Sugar, A Glass Upside Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I thought we could probably stand to have some fluff in this fandom right about now.</p><p>For the record, I will never write a death fic for Jack or anyone else without explicitly tagging it (and chances aren’t high I’ll write one even then, because I haven’t accepted it yet). Just a little note. You can always trust my tags, I promise. </p><p>On to the (denial) fluff!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Genius was a word Mac had heard thrown around all his life. Sometimes it was complimentary, sometimes it was sarcastic and biting, and sometimes he couldn’t tell how it was meant. He usually was the smartest person in the room, though Mac himself would credit that only to his good memory and fascination with all things science. He believed that anyone could do what he does, with the same blend of ingenuity and desperation, and he loved to teach others how to help themselves with what they could find around them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But today, pacing around his house, Mac wasn’t feeling too bright. Not at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’re s’posed to be some kinda super-genius, pal,” Jack called from the couch around a mouthful of pizza. Mac was pacing around the living room, trying to breathe deeply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you keep telli— </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — telling me. A lot of good that does me if I can’t control my own — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — my own diaphragm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack and Mac had been chilling at home. Just a quiet night in, for once. They were fairly evenly matched at Super Mario Bros. 3, which was odd considering the game had come out the year Mac was born and Jack had been overseas for a few years by that time. Their even match had tipped hilariously in Jack’s favour, however, when Mac had gotten an unshakeable bout of the hiccups. It screwed up his concentration and made every sentence painful. Not least because Jack wouldn't stop laughing at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe stop pacing like some nervous wreck and start tryin’ to cure ‘em then, hoss? I’d startle you, but we both know guys like you and me don’t take too well to being startled.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac sighed. “I — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— dammit. I am trying to get rid of the— </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>—em. Hiccups are just spasms in the diaphragm so I should be able to — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span> — If I can disrupt the — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! —</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack chuckled, watching Mac become increasingly more frustrated. “Stop talking before you hurt yourself. I’ve got a cure for you, hold up.” He stood and wandered over to the kitchen, with no urgency at all in his step. Mac thought that Jack was enjoying himself far too much. And he didn’t want to know what nonsense cure Jack would come up with to cure his hiccups. Mac knew what he needed to do. Just breathe deeply and regularly. It would offset the spasming and reset his diaphragm to normal. But every time he took in a deep breath, his body rebelled, forcing him to gasp air in with an undignified squeak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack came back from his rummaging in the kitchen, carrying a spoon heaped high with white sugar and a hand held under the spoon to keep from getting it all over the floor. “This’ll help you, bud. One of many old Dalton family cures.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack, I’m not — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — I’m not eating that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure y’are!” Jack grinned, launching into an extraordinarily off-key rendition of A Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down. “Open wide, down the hatch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, man. Would it help if I pretended it was an airplane? Nyyyyerrmmm,” he flew the spoon through the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is no scientific basis — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — for sugar as a hic—</span>
  <em>
    <span> hic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — a hiccup cure, I’m not gonna—” Jack popped the spoon into Mac’s open mouth as he protested. Mac choked as the tiny crystals fell to the back of his throat and Jack thumped him on the back as he struggled to swallow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— the hell, Jack?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack shrugged innocently. “It’s an old family cure, I told’ja.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac flopped onto the couch in a miserable heap and grimaced at the intense sweetness lingering in his mouth. “Well it didn’t work. I’m pretty — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— pretty sure that cure came about because you and your massive sweet tooth just — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— wanted to eat some sugar as a kid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Jack assented. “We could try Ma’s cure. If she caught us sittin’ around the house with the hiccups she’d put a drop of vinegar on our tongues. Nasty as hell, but it worked more often than not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— no disrespect to Ma Dalton,” Mac said warily, “but I think I would rather die. Especially after that sugar. I thi— </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— I think my tongue would curdle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it really wasn’t pleasant. Do you have any sure-fire hiccup cures of your own you wanna try?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac couldn’t remember any outrageous hiccup remedies from his childhood. If there ever were any, they would have come from his mom, though, because his father would always have him go into another room and breathe deeply until he had hiccuped himself out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No, just breathing tricks. Which should — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— work. If you’d stop talking and let me — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— uuugh,” Mac groaned, and then took in a lungful and held it. About twelve seconds in, his whole body jerked around a suppressed hiccup, but he kept his lips clamped shut around his breath, willing his diaphragm to </span>
  <em>
    <span>calm the hell down!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack sat quietly as Mac had asked him to, but as Mac’s face started to turn red, he wondered if Mac might make himself pass out due to sheer stubbornness. “Hoss, you’re goin’ fire-engine red, there. You should probably breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac huffed out all the air, only to choke on the gasp the next hiccup caused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After waiting patiently for the coughing jag to die out, Jack said “We’re damn lucky you’ve never gotten the hiccups on a mission, man. Could you imagine trying to defuse a bomb like this? We’d have died in, like, 2012 at this rate.” Mac grimaced, finally able to breathe without choking. “You know, I had a great-uncle who said he had the hiccups for a week once. He swore up and down that gettin’ himself off cured him...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — I’ll pass on that one for now, thanks.” Mac rolled his eyes, still breathing a little heavily. Which </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>have taken care of his damn hiccups by now. He pressed a hand down over his diaphragm, willing it again to be still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Suit yourself,” Jack shrugged with a grin down at his miserable friend. “I’ve only got one other remedy that I know of, if you care to try it. I know them hiccups are driving you crazy, and I don’t fancy listenin’ to you squeak like someone stepped on a chew toy all night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gee, tha—</span>
  <em>
    <span> hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— thanks,” Mac groused. “What is it? I’m not standing on my head or — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— licking a tree or whatever other nonsense you and your cousins did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack put a hand to his chest, looking deeply offended. “Nonsense? Why I’ll have you know that forcin’ yourself to breathe while upside down resets your die-fram perfectly well. And that’s a major portion of the tried-and-true, foolproof method I’m preparin’ for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Diaphragm,” Mac corrected wearily. “And you’re technically right. What — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>—are you having me do now?” Jack presented him with a glass of water and motioned him to stand up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna drink from the far edge of this cup. This is the only cure that really works, I was just pullin’ your leg with the others. Hey don’t gimme that look!” Jack raised his free hand defensively as Mac glared (it was hard to take his ire seriously though because he hiccupped in the middle of it). “You shoulda seen your face when I popped that spoon in your mouth like you were a toddler! But nah, this cure really does work. It’s what I do, and Riley does it too, I happen to know. I taught her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac sighed, taking the glass. “Well if Riley does it, it can’t be too bad,” he conceded. “How do I — </span>
  <em>
    <span>hic! </span>
  </em>
  <span>— drink from the far edge?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You put your mouth on the far edge like this,” Jack demonstrated with an empty glass, “and then bend forward until you can drink. Force the water up. Works like a charm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a measure of Mac’s frustration and desperation that he found himself willing to do it. If Jack was tricking him again with another BS cure, though, Mac would upend the glass over Jack’s head. He took a few gulps of water upside down, feeling completely ridiculous, and then straightened up once half the glass was gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waited with bated breath, testing. And after about thirty seconds with no hiccups, he let himself breathe a little deeper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It work, hoss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I…” Another pause to allow any remaining hiccups to make themselves known. “I think it worked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack just about crowed. “I tol’ja that trick was the best.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac went off about the science of forcing water up the throat, and Jack waved him off, handing him the game controller. “Yes, yes, you’re brilliant, hoss. Let’s see if that brilliant noggin of yours is good for more than science trivia. I betcha I get more points on this level than you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack, points aren’t even relevant to gameplay here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, nerd. I can still kick your ass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac took the bait and the offered controller. “No you can’t. You weren’t even in the country when this game came out, old man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and you weren’t even born.” Jack stuck his tongue between his teeth as if that would help Mario jump higher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, what, it came out a month before I was born? That just means I grew up playing it. Aha! Mushroom! You, on the other hand, you were already old in ‘90.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Old!?” Jack yelped, which was punctuated by his Mario being bitten by a chain chomp. “I was twenty three! Younger than you are now! Hey!” Mac stuck his tongue out at Jack as he finished the level. “Don’t make me get that vinegar out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t dare,” Mac laughed. “I’ve been able to best you in a fight since day one, pal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh wouldn’t I?” Jack grumbled as he faced the fact that he had lost the level spectacularly. “Just you try it. You were an insubordinate little punk then, you’re still one now. Dammit!” The tinny little “Mario’s dead” tune came through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They whiled away the night in just such a fashion, bantering and bickering and taking it in turns to win. Jack kept singing A Spoonful of Sugar obnoxiously, and Mac reveled in his regained ability to breathe properly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Bozer walked in the house, late at night after his dinner-and-movie date with Leanna, he heard the tv on. 8-bit music was playing softly, barely heard over snores that were unmistakably Jack’s. Bozer smiled as he walked into the living room, to see Jack sprawled on the couch, game controller still in hand and snoring like a semi-truck, and Mac was asleep sitting on the floor in a position Bozer knew would be murder on his friend’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled at the pair of them (and might have taken a picture), and then made short work of lifting his friend into a more comfortable position on the couch and covering the pair of them with blankets. As he moved to turn off the console and throw out the empty pizza box, something crunched softly under his foot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He crouched down to see what it was. It felt grainy, like cornmeal or… </span>
  <em>
    <span>sugar? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looked back at the sleeping beauties on his couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell were you guys doing with sugar that you got it on the living room floor?” he asked softly, not expecting or receiving a response. There was time enough for that in the morning.</span>
</p>
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